


Breaking Point

by dankou



Series: You and Me Against the World [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Accidents, Depression, Gen, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankou/pseuds/dankou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petty sibling arguments lead to storming off and things spiralling south for Carver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> I will likely be posting a series of shorts based in this AU centred around Carver and Dorian. So, what better way to start it off than with a bit of angst, huh? 
> 
> Also lets raise a glass for rare pairs and I hope you enjoy!

“Urgh. Can you tell your  _ boyfriend  _ to just piss off already?” Carver snapped. He had just about enough of Garrett’s boyfriend, Anders, constantly criticising him, winding him up, and being so disgustingly clingy to his brother.   
“Can’t you just be happy for me for once and think about someone other than yourself?” Garrett growled in defense.   
“Oh that’s bloody _ rich _ coming from you!”   
“Excuse me?”   
“You heard.” Carver leaned up against the wall in the living room and folded his arms tightly, “I don’t see how  _ I’m _ the selfish one when _ you _ can’t tell your stupid flea-bag to leave me the fuck alone!” Garrett gritted his teeth, losing his patience with his younger brother,   
“Well, maybe if you actually  _ tried _ to be nice for once in your goddamn life--”   
“ _ He’s _ the one who starts it!” Carver interrupted, pushing himself away from the wall and flailing his arms up in the air, “Would it kill you to shut him up every once in awhile or tell him to piss off?”   
“Why don’t  _ you _ tell  _ your _ boyfriend to piss off, then, huh? He practically fucking lives here!” Garrett was seething, “Stop being such a brat!”   
“Don’t compare Dorian to  _ him! _ Dorian doesn’t go out of his way to be an asshole unlike Anders!”

That was it. Garrett abruptly shoved Carver against the wall and glared at him viciously.    
“I have just about had  _ enough  _ of your shitty attitude, Carver. Anders is the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m not going to let you ruin this just like you ruin everything else!”

Oh, that struck a nerve with Carver alright. 

Carver, red faced and livid, threw Garrett off of him and scowled.    
“The only shitty attitude around here is yours! You’re entitled, selfish and can’t see any fault in yourself or your ‘precious magey’! Everything is always someone else’s bloody fault, isn’t it? Well, I’m fucking done!” 

Before Garrett could utter a retort, Carver snatched his gym bag off of the coffee table, swung it over his shoulder and stomped towards the front door.    
“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Garrett yelled to Carver from across the room, words still laced with aggression.   
“Off to ruin everything!” Carver roared finally before heading out the door and slamming the door behind him.

Carver was actually glad he had rugby practise in the evening that day; it meant that he could let off steam in sport. There was a chill in the air as the evening sky began to dim - just how Carver liked it. Fresh air always did him good. The streets were pretty still. The Hawkes lived in a mostly quiet area of town which Carver appreciated because living in a busy city would probably be exhaustingly frustrating for him. A walk away from people and arguments helped him cool off - for the most part, anyway.

Slight irritation still lingering, he reached for his phone and dialled Dorian’s number, to which the latter answered promptly.   
“My brother is impossible!” he groaned. Dorian chuckled softly down the phone.   
“Is this about Anders again?” Carver let out a prolonged, agitated sigh.   
“Don’t even get me started on him!” he vented, “He tried to lecture me  _ again _ about ‘mage rights’ and how I should ‘put more thought into it’ even though that bullshit isn’t even relevant nowadays!”   
“He’s just passionate about it. That’s all.”   
“But can’t he just be passionate about it to someone who actually gives a damn?”   
“I suppose you have a point,” Dorian teased.

They conversed for a bit; talking to Dorian always cheered him up. Carver enjoyed Dorian’s wit and great sense of humour and they always had some fantastic banter. Though, Carver’s comebacks weren’t nearly on par with his boyfriend’s.

The road was clear, as it always was at this time, and Carver stepped out to cross. There was a sudden screech of tyres. A car sped round the corner leaving him no time to react and-

Laying still, his skin felt it was burning. His body was heavy and his vision hazy, struggling to remain conscious. He could just about make out a familiar voice calling for him.

“Carver? Carver! Are you alright? _ Kaffas…  _ Carver!”

His body resigned as he let his eyes close slowly in defeat, Dorian’s voice being the last thing he could hear before he finally lost consciousness.

When Carver awoke he was unsure of how much time had passed nor could he fully recall what happened. He batted his eyelids, squinting as his eyes readjusted to the light. His movement was restricted and any time he attempted to move he was met with a sharp pain in his back and lower right-hand side of his rib cage. His right leg, however, was completely numb. Carver couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing but honestly, he didn’t have the energy to care. He was able to turn his head ever so slightly to observe his surroundings. On the bedside table he noticed a clear vase holding a beautiful bouquet of peonies and daisies, and beside them a collection of what one could only assume to be ‘get well’ cards.

Soon entered one of the nurses who Carver knew to be Fereldan by voice. The woman sat down and softly explained to Carver what happened and how a man by the name of Stroud was the one who called an ambulance for him and effectively saving his life. 

None of this felt real. It was all too much to take in. Despite the frequent visits from his family guiding him back to reality for a few moments, the following couple of months or so went by like a blur, Carver feeling like he was barely existing.

By the time the reality of his situation had sunk in and was able to at least sit up and eat on his own, the school year was already a month in. The thought that he had already missed so much and how difficult it was going to be to catch up (if at all possible) left him with a sinking feeling. This was his last year of sixth form - the year that counted the most towards going to university. Not to mention he’s missed a lot of rugby training and his body was so crippled that he wasn’t sure if he could even play again. His  _ future _ was on the line. Everything he had worked so hard for was slipping through his fingers. He found himself wondering why that driver didn’t just finish him off there and then. This had to be some cruel joke.

Hearing about everyone’s lives and about how school was going was like torture. Carver couldn’t stand being useless and cramped in a confined room whilst everyone else was moving forward. That feeling as though he’s being left behind made his throat feel tight. 

Every night he spent thinking about it was restless. He wanted to get out. He wanted to normal again. He wanted to die. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to go  _ home _ . So many thoughts scrambled through his mind, often conflicting and clouding his better judgement. He hated this.  _ Maker, _ he hated this. He needed to get out; he couldn’t take much more of it. Carver shuffles irrationally struggling to lift himself out of bed to bolt out of the door. However, he didn’t make it far before collapsing to the floor and clutching his side and bawling in agony. Everything was too overwhelming. Carver didn’t know which pain was worse - the stabbing sensation in his ribs and leg, or the pitiful feeling of helplessness despair. 

A nurse found him shortly after, helped him back into bed and stayed by his side to comfort him. And though the gesture was kind, it wasn’t nearly enough to stop him from attempting to escape time and time again.

Upon discussion, a decision was made to allow Carver to recover from home under the condition that a nurse comes by often to check on him. This arrangement was made to ensure Carver got what was best for his mental health.

And it was alright for a while. Carver was able to sleep in his own bed - oh, how he missed his bed, he got to wear his own clothes, eat his mother’s cooking, and the best part was that he could order his siblings to do things for him. Specifically, he could order  _ Garrett _ to do things for him. Though this joy was short lived.

He couldn’t stand the way his family looked at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. They looked at him with sadness as if he was broken. It was unbearable. 

Bethany would occasionally sit with Carver in his room to go through her notes and attempt to help him keep up to date with the classes they were supposed to take together. And although Carver much appreciated her making the effort to tutor him, he couldn’t help but slowly become consumed by that feeling of being left behind and being utterly useless all over again. 

That darkness had wrapped itself around his throat again and he could feel the weight of it dragging himself down. He felt like he was drowning as he began to give in to it. He had no strength to fight back.

_ “HIT ME!” _

Those words echoed down through the street in the dead of night.    
“ _ END IT ALREADY!” _ If the neighbours hadn’t been woken up before, they sure were awake now.

Garrett woke to the second cry and sleepily peered through his bedroom window to see what all the commotion was about. There in the middle of the road sat Carver, arms out either side of him as though to make himself a bigger target, trying to go more into a kneel but without success due to the cast on his knee. 

_ ‘What is he doing?’ _ Panic struck Garrett like a knife to his stomach. He raced around the house to wake everyone up yelling “It’s  _ Carver! _ ” before bolting down the stairs into the street to his brother’s side.

_ “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” _   
“Carver,  _ no! _ ”

Garrett knelt down beside Carver and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have to get out of the road!”   
“No, piss off!” Carver opposed, swatting his brother’s hand off of him. He continued his bellowing into the pitch black street.

_ “WHY DON’T YOU JUST FINISH ME OFF?” _

Every word was laced with anguish, piercing the silence. Instinctively, Garrett wrapped his arms around his brother’s torso and pulled in attempt to lift him up to carry him inside but that plan quickly backfired when Carver began to yelp in pain and yell for him to ‘get off’.

“Garrett, move aside,” Malcolm instructed his eldest son calmly and Garrett obeyed. At this point the rest of the Hawkes were stood inside the porch, anxiously observing. 

Malcolm went to Carver’s side and without uttering a word he lifted his youngest son despite his obvious disapproval. 

“Let go of me! Put me down!” Carver protested, kicking and screaming as his father carried him inside the house.    
“Carver, stop,” Malcolm spoke softly yet firmly as he lowered them both down to sit on the livingroom floor with Carver still in his arms, “I’ve got you; it’s okay.”   
Carver surrendered any attempt at fighting back and began to weep uncontrollably in utter despair. His father cradled him with such warmth as he sobbed into his shoulder.

“It’s not fair…”    
“I know,” Malcolm gently caressed the back of Carver’s neck, “The bastard who did this to you is a coward. Taking off like that when they should have got you help; it was wrong. Maker, if I ever find out who it was they’ve got another thing coming.”   
“I don’t know what to do…” Carver muttered shakily, his voice much quieter than earlier, “There’s no way in hell I can join the Ferelden Rugby Team any more because of my knee and my back, and I’ve missed so much of school that I’m going to fail all my exams so what’s even the point any more?”

Leandra couldn’t bear to hear the hopelessness in Carver’s tone any longer and tears escaped her eyes; Bethany followed soon after. 

“The Carver  _ I _ know doesn’t give up,” Malcolm stated with confidence.    
Carver’s voice was muffled by his father’s shirt, “It’s just so  _ hard _ …” 

Malcolm held his son’s shoulders and pushed him away carefully so he could look directly at his face.   
“You know what you’re gonna do?” he began as Carver shifted his gaze towards the wooden flooring, “You’re going to get better, you’re going to do the best you can, you’re going to do your exams and you’re not going to give that bastard the satisfaction of ruining what you worked so hard for.”   
“Dorian and I will help you catch up, too!” Bethany cut in to reassure her twin.   
“See? You’ve got your family and your friends to help you through this. And if you fail your exams? No problem. We’ll figure something out together. You hear me?”   
Carver nodded quietly rubbing his eyes with the balls on his palms.    
“Good.”

Malcolm pulled Carver into one last warm hug, Leandra wrapping her arms around them both, followed by Bethany and Garrett mirroring her movements. Carver let out a small laugh at how awkward the group hug was but immersed himself in it because for the first time since the accident he felt as though everything was going to be okay.


End file.
